GTA: Innocence Forgotten
by XeroHour
Summary: About a law abiding citizen turned hitman. From the reviews, I've decided to pick up the pace and hurry to make more ch's.
1. Innocence Forgotten

GTA: Innocence Forgotten  
  
Foreword: This is a little darker then most of the GTA fan fiction in my mind. I try to make it more a plot of a killer who resembles "The Man" (Gta 3's star), but has a reason for his crimes, and hopes to remove his sins. Enjoy.  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Innocence Forgotten  
  
I looked out the car door window as Liberty City passed before my eyes. A tear fell from my eye, splashing down on the leather seat of the Mafia Sentinel. I knew what I had to do, and it involved guns. It involved death, the death of those I had no grudge against, but that's what it meant to be a killer.  
  
But when in the fuck did I become a killer? Since when was I, Rob Dennings, a "hired gun"...  
  
I had to go back a bit... Shit, not a little while back, at least years ago. Well, I remember it clearly...  
  
Several Years Ago  
  
Liberty City  
  
Shoreside Vale...  
  
It was about 5:48 PM. I wasn't initiated into the crime world yet, hell, I'd never even held a gun at that point. I was just a Liberty City resident, but suprisingly, life was good. I had a wife, a kid who was 8 years old, I remember, he was on the Little League Team for Shoreside.  
  
That was a time when I didn't have a care in the world. I worked for the city as a legal prosecutor, but even if I had lost my job that day, I doubt I'd even have cared. But that was then. That could've been a broadway frickin' musical for all I cared, to me, it was ancient history.  
  
Well, I was on my way home. I'd prosecuted some gangster, I wasn't too much into it at the time, but it would mean my life taking a different path. I'd sent him to the electric chair.  
  
The criminals name was Dennis Famente. Big time gangster, runs spank dealing, prostitution, and owns a popular night club, the 24-7, big time hangout for thugs and car boosters.  
  
Well, turns out this wasn't the guy to fuck with. I come home that night, find the devil on my doorstep.  
  
Walk in the house, to a horrible smell building up. I see bloody footsteps leading up the stairs. I immediately pull a baseball bat off the wall, and cautiously move up the steps, knowing something bad was going down.  
  
Move up the stairs, feels like I'm in a horror movie, just at the part where your favorite character gets killed. Slowly, I move through the hall, to my wife's bedroom.  
  
What I see makes me close my eyes and weep. I couldn't help it, I felt like killing myself.  
  
On the bed, my wife lay, with an ice pick next to her, the blood of her smeared on the edge. She's dead, from obvious reasons.  
  
Blood- it's everywhere.  
  
I laid myself down on the ground, in a fetal position, and cried my fuckin' eyes out. I didn't know what else could I do. If you're life was taken, you're wife killed, as was your son, what would you do? This was hardly the time to go read the paper or grab a bite.  
  
Well, stupid move to start crying- I'd never even checked to see if the killer's responsible were still near the house.  
  
Smashing glass came next. I saw an oil soaked rag, wrapped over a brick smash through the hallway window, landing in a pile of gasoline.  
  
"Oh shit!"  
  
I cursed to myself, watching the entire hallway light up in flames. The bedroom wasn't oiled down, but it didn't need to be, that gallon of gas on the hallway floor was enough to take the entire house down in minutes.  
  
I had to do something- unfortunately, the first idea that came to mind would sprain my ankle, as I jumped out of a second story window, landing on a fallen branch.  
  
I was able to catch a screeching car though, it was a Landstalker, gray with gold stripes. I was able to pick up the license, for the murderers who drove it had the license plate customized.  
  
"24-7"  
  
It was obvious Famente or Famente's goons had done it. But boy oh boy, they should've tied me up and shot me in the head 5 times, because they just started a one man war, with me on the other side of the fence.  
  
Innocence forgotten, I got in my car and blazed out to Portland. It would be a long night. 


	2. The Black Sheep

GTA: Innocence Forgotten  
  
Chapter 2  
  
The Black Sheep  
  
That really was a long night. At first I just drove, I didn't stop at Portland, I went back to Staunton, back to Shoreside again, but I figured I couldn't drive all night, and I was getting tired.  
  
So I went back to to Portland, and stayed the night at a ritzy hotel, spending a third of the cash in my bank account.  
  
I then got some rest. Though I can't say I actually slept. I spent the night in a nightmare, thinking about what happened, the image of my wife and son plastered all over my mind. I couldn't eat the next day either, so I stayed in the hotel and looked out the window.  
  
But the third day, I felt it was time to start my mission. First thing, I checked in with the offices. Turned out they were shitting cows, trying to find where I'd went, and they offered their condolences. They also wondered what in the hell was going on.  
  
I didn't say anything, I just asked everybody to leave me alone. Quietly, I packed up my office, and quit, telling them I'd be back in 2 months. It was a lie, just to get them to get off my case.  
  
They didn't care I'm sure, they weren't the ones who lost their fucking families.  
  
Well, I figured I'd need a piece, that's where my brother came in. He was the black sheep of the family, he dropped out of high school, got 'in' with a gangster named Luigi, owned a strip club in Portland. That's where I'd be heading next.  
  
I made it to Luigi's, walked in and nearly got shot. I looked at the doorman, guy my size, but armed with an Ingram. He smiled at me, with 4 gold teeth, then let the barrel of his gun slip out his coat, intimidating me. I smiled back, and held steady to the baseball bat I had in my coat.  
  
"Whadya need? All our girls are occupied at the moment, come back another time."  
  
I raised one eyebrow.  
  
"I'm here for Kenny, Kenny Dennings. He's Luigi's right hand man if I'm correct."  
  
The thug looked confused, seeing me, I looked like a suit, not a gangster. The doorman laughed.  
  
"Whatever you want. I'll go get 'im."  
  
I took a step back, as the doorman closed the door, and went into the club. After a few minutes, I saw Kenny walk out the door, all swank, no innocence.  
  
"Robby boy, how you doin'? What's it like being sober, I mean not from whiskey or drugs, I mean from crime? Aint nutin' like boosting a car or capping off a Yardie, eh?"  
  
I smiled. Rob hadn't changed, as a kid, he stole kid's lunch monies. Now he just took it a step further.  
  
"Yes and No. You know of Denis Famente? Runs the 24-7 over in Staunton?"  
  
My brother trembled, then brought me closer to him.  
  
"Don't ever say that name around here again. Luigi's frickin' pissed at dat guy... Says the cheap bastard stole half his girls, and is taking up his profits. To boot, he's been pushing spank to our girls, along with some other punk. Luigi gets ulcers just thinking about 'im."  
  
I thought to myself, I was in luck. My brother and a part of the underworld were on my side, or at least the man I was against.  
  
"You know if he's going to the chair or not? I put him in for it."  
  
"No... Last I heard, he broke out with his boys, they set up shop at the 24- 7 again. Paid off some cops, made sure they don't go nosing around."  
  
I smiled. This meant, I could kill the bastard right in his own so called palace.  
  
"Thanks Ken. I do have a favor to ask of you."  
  
My brother looked suspicious.  
  
"Eh... Robby boy, this uh... this don't involved whip cream like last time, uh, does it?"  
  
I looked confused. What the hell was he talking about.  
  
"Ooh! Wait a minute, Luigi asked me that one. Sorry, shoot then, whadya need?"  
  
"I need a car, and I need some guns. Lots of guns. I'm going to kill Famente."  
  
"But why you wanna kill 'im Rob-o? What he done to you so far?"  
  
"You remember my wife, Sarah? And little Chase?"  
  
"That rat son of a bitch... He didn't, did he? He had the fucking guts to kill my baby brothers family? That asshole..."  
  
Kenny looked down in a moment of grief. I did too. Then Kenny spoke up again.  
  
"That bastard is gonna pay. Nobody, and I mean nobody fucks with my family. I mean that, and you got me behind you Robby. I promise bro, we gonna make sure they can't even identify his body, all the lead they put in him."  
  
I nodded. I had an ally on my side. But so Caesar had thousands...  
  
Look at where he ended up. 


	3. A Bad Hand

GTA: Innocence Forgotten  
  
Chapter 3  
  
A Bad Hand  
  
That night, we took a trip out to Staunton, Kenny was gonna "show me the ropes" so to speak. I was gonna come with Kenny on a little mission to a Cartel protected Video Store, we'd knock up the owner, and if we saw resistance, we'd shoot up their thugs.  
  
I looked out the window, saw the streets whirl by. Funny. Damn funny, what we were going to do; what I might have to take part in. I remember taking a guy to a life sentence. He got in for killing an old man, the guy was collecting protection money. Not exactly the same, but the same situation.  
  
Hmph. Ironic, aint it?  
  
Well, we pulled up to the Video Store. I walked out, with an air of nervousness that gave me away. I was carrying a Glock 29 in my jacket pocket, nice and powerful. I'd taken a few shots with it earlier. From the talk I had with Kenny, just take the safety off, load a clip in, and pull the trigger.  
  
A creepily timed gust of wind blows through the streets, sending a newspaper by. The words WANTED are all that I can catch on it. I sigh, then crack my neck, trying to ease my tension.  
  
Kenny goes up to the door of the shop first, sees the sign is closed. Inside, several bodies move about, shelving videos and arranging signs. Following Kenny are two Mafia guns, a big guy with a couple stitches on his brow and a short guy, with visible balding.  
  
I didn't learn their names, I just remembered the big guy as Bruises, and the short guy as Baldy. Both of them wore cheap suits, silver stripes running down their black folds, several faded red spots on the pants of Bruises. Looked like he'd had some fun in his past.  
  
Kenny didn't bother to open the door handle, he kicked it in. I couldn't hear what he was saying, I was outside; standing nervously on the sidewalk. I felt like shit, I thought I heard sirens. For a guy out to kill his family's murdered, I had the courage and guts of a puppy with a bladder problem.  
  
I looked in the window again, saw Kenny with a baseball bat out. I saw who he was threatening, a built up guy, buzz cut, tank top, faded jeans. Kenny and him were talking, the 'victim' was standing there proud. As Kenny went on and on, looked like he was pissed, the other man just stood his ground.  
  
Kenny then laughed, as if he was amused by the situation, then whipped the bat out to the guy's face, sending him to the ground. Kenny lit up a smoke, then weezed in the calming nicotine. It was a bad habit of his, he took it up as a kid. I did too, but I'd quit when I entered college.  
  
While this was going on, Baldy had a handgun out, he was clearing the backroom, Bruises was behind him, with another baseball bat out, but I could see his piece, it was on a hip mounted holster, looked shiny and brand new.  
  
I was fairly inattentive for a lookout though, so I checked behind me, and caught what might lead to our downfall, a teenager in a telephone booth. Didn't know what he was dialing, but looked like he was in a hurry.  
  
He was on to us alright, from his look of panic, so I moved in. I started moving my hands, motioning that nothing was going on. He appeared to cringe back a little more with every step, scared of what I'd become.  
  
I shook my head. I figured I'd go and warn the boys, before 5-0 arrived.  
  
A clicking sound, followed by the phone booth opening. I swung around, my gun in it's holster. I nearly freaked, the punk was charging me with a switchblade.  
  
Jeez! I didn't know what to do... The motions ran through my mind, kill a kid, get killed by a kid.  
  
One quick motion. I drew my gun, and fired.  
  
Blood. Everywhere. Seeping into the cracks of the streets, into the sidewalk, seemingly forming pictures on the battered walkway. The kid jerked around, I'd shot him in the chest, no swift death for this kid.  
  
I took a moment and thought. What had I done? Was I a murderer? By law, I was. But by mind, by my own thoughts, what would this do to me? Nightmares? Guilt?  
  
A feeling of sin and guilt was now on my heart, I felt they could never be gone. All this from one shot, one dead street punk. I knew I had to kill Famente all the more now.  
  
As the blood funneled out, and the lifeless teenage body stopped moving, I spun back around, looking at the video-store. Empty. Nobody in, seemed my 'crew' couldn't be found.  
  
I scanned through the mess of knocked over shelves, looking past the empty cash register. Had my brother, Baldy 'n' Bruises deserted me? What was going on?  
  
A wailing of sirens struck reality into my head, like a much needed wake up call. Had to get moving, had to get away. Couldn't get caught, didn't know what it would do to me.  
  
I started to move fast through the video store, as a glimpse of red and blue sirens pierced my vision.  
  
I felt my knees start to feel wobbly, and my arms start to tense up. Most would mistake this for feeling weaker, but I knew a thing or too about it, it was adrenaline rushing through my veins. It would do the opposite of weakness, it should help me get back to Kenny and the walking cartoon characters.  
  
A gust of wind fills the abandoned store, as I hastily force open the entrance to the backroom. Still nothing, but a couple poker tables, and some boxes of unopened videos, which might never be opened.  
  
Time. Need more of it, the thought grasps my brain and begins to squeeze. I can hear cop radios in the background, as well as a siren. Can't make out the words, don't want to stay long enough to hear them.  
  
Turn myself in? Hell no. Gotta keep moving.  
  
I jump over a box of videos, but what do I land in? Bruises and Baldy's bodies, stacked up on each other. To the left, Bruises pistol is on the ground. In addition, a shotgun is still grasped to Baldy's hand, his finger on the trigger. It's a creepy sight, chilling and despairing.  
  
I pry it out, and stuff it in my coat. I move to the door, but can't get it open. I try pushing, shoving, the door won't budge.  
  
"Kenny!"  
  
I shout as loud as I can.  
  
"Kenny! Kenny!"  
  
Then the feeling sinks in.  
  
Betrayal.  
  
As cops file in, guns drawn, I know I'm done. A smug look on my face, I drop my pistol, put my hands on my head, and move to the wall. The cops seem a little surprised, no resistance? And he even knows the procedure?  
  
Well, taking no chance on their good luck, they cuff me up, and take me out to a waiting cop car. This seemed like a bad Poker game, it looked like I'd drawn up a hand of one's and two's. Time to fold.  
  
Damn. As the car screeches off, sirens turned off, I close my eyes, and try to pretend I'm somewhere else. Nope, still in hell. 


	4. Mad Drivers Anonymous

GTA: Innocence Forgotten  
  
(Notes: Originally this chapter encompassed the events of 4 and 5, but I broke it in two, and described more in detail the first part of the chapter, being 4)  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Mad Drivers Anonymous  
  
The cop car ride was dull and way too long, it was like I hoped we could get there faster.  
  
After about 3 minutes of driving, I noticed the car. The car that would take me spiraling deeper into the rabbit hole.  
  
It was a Cheetah, and by far faster then what we were in. The thing interesting about it, was that it seemed like it was following us. We started off slow, then it went slow. We took a turn, it took a turn. Soon we came to a red light.  
  
The cop car slowly skidded to a halt, the Cheetah did too, it came to a stop in the lane to the left of us. I looked out the window, trying to scan into the Cheetah. Nothing, my gaze was sharply intercepted by the cars tinted black windows.  
  
I slid into my seat, wondering what Lady Luck had for me next. Maybe if I was in her favor, we'd just get hit by a stray comet, or drive into a vortex of nothing. I mean, she'd given me such luck today.  
  
The red light's sandglass was running out, and the cop fed a little juice to the engine. Seemed like a cocky bastard, the kind who takes bribes, has 25 grand more then a cop of his salary should, vacations in the Bahamas every year, I guess I had this guy figured.  
  
Then the Cheetah made a daring move, it revved up, and spun to a stop in front of the cop car. The cop looked cautious, and picked up his radio.  
  
"HQ, this is Sgt. Johnson, report of possible 10-92, 45th Street, off Main and South, requesting supporting cars. Repeat, requesting-"  
  
The man's words were cut short, with a shotgun blast to the windshield. I saw the gunman in front of us, standing with an air of cool, calmer then a porcupine; all his daring and charm oozing out, without him even showing any emotion.  
  
He wore a black leather jacket, under a hastily buttoned shirt. He wore cargo pants, and I could tell he was packing several guns.  
  
The cop looked freaked out, he began to pull the car into reverse, in the process scraping against an Idaho. As the metal on metal crunched into each other, the Cop shifted back into Automatic, as he b-lined into the guy who fired the shots, whom I'd only come to know as the Guy.  
  
The Guy looked freaked as well, but he seemed to be trained for the event. As the cop car hurdled towards him, he rolled to the left, still grasping his shotgun. He seemed pissed now, he aimed the shotgun to the windshield of the cop car.  
  
The cop looked frantic, he probably wet himself at that moment. He next ducked, narrowly missing a hail of lead pellets, which cracked the window, side to side.  
  
The cop decided he'd try to take this guy on, after all, reinforcements were on the way. He unlocked the doors- stupid move, he took out my door's lock on accident. I still had cuffs on though, it might not be smart to run out.  
  
The cop pulled up his 9 millimeter Beretta, in it's black casing, barely used, nice and new, and lined it up with the Guy. The guy was 10 years faster though, he already had another hail of 12 gauge fury spraying at the cop. It hit him center mass, and sent the officer flying backwards, landing 5 feet from where he stood. The wounds on the officer were smoking with reddish black smoke. I knew this would be the time to get away as fast as my legs would carry me, no or nothing.  
  
I forced open my door with my legs, then rolled out, starting into a dead sprint. I knew I was almost away, when I suddenly felt a bullet pierce my left leg. I screamed in agony, that bastard had shot me! It's positioning felt deliberate though, it just about grazed my leg instead of penetrating it. Running felt like trouble, so did standing, but I knew it would heal in little time at all.  
  
I slowly turned around next, putting my hands up in the air.  
  
"Alright! Just don't fire again! I'm cool!"  
  
I limped over to the guy, as he hopped into his Cheetah. I then saw a head pop out the passenger side window, a Black male with a shaved head, he peered around, then brought his head back in, hopping out the car next.  
  
The man had with him a small package. He quickly unwrapped it, his hands working magic over a clump of plastic like putty. He stuck wires and various apparatus' into the putty, then placed it onto the ground. Lastly, he connected an electronic device to one of the wires. He flicked the switch on it to the right, starting a red light to blink.  
  
Next he called out to me.  
  
"Get over here! You don't have much time until you end up as burnt as toast!"  
  
I nodded, and hobbled over. When I came to the halfway, the man, who was wearing a baseball jacket and blue jeans as I'd first noticed, helped me over to the Cheetah.  
  
"Back seat. Cramped, but you're not in the position to complain."  
  
I simply nodded in agreement, and hobbled in, struggling to get in the back. After several sighs emanating from the Guy, I was in, and the adrenaline started to plummet. The black man hopped in next, and started to peer out his passenger side mirror.  
  
I was able to catch a few glimpses too, while everything seemed to run into slow motion. 1 second goes by- the Cheetah's moving again. 2 seconds go by- in one smooth motion, the black male pulls another electronic device, with an antenna like feature protruding from it. He flips a button on it. 3 seconds- a red inferno billows out like wildfire from the plastic putty, sending a massive shockwave. I can see the nearby pedestrians faces, of horror and screaming, blood dripping through the air. 4 seconds pass- the explosions hits its prime, smoke starts to billow out of it, like a fortress has it's moat. Mangled bodies start to pile up. 5 seconds- we're away, behind us lies a mass of rubble and smoke.  
  
I look back in shock one last time, then look at the black male who caused it.  
  
"D... Damn... You know how to make things go boom..."  
  
It was the most I could mutter, I'd never seen anything like that in person.  
  
"Ya.. You could say that. Name's 8 Ball, this is my rather silent cohort." 8 Ball pointed to the Guy, who grunted back. "This aint really the time to explain my life's story, so let's just-"  
  
The guy grunted, looked annoyed. He smirked, and said two words. "I'm driving."  
  
8 Ball nodded. "Well, he speaks his mind. Let's let him do the wheeling."  
  
I nodded, still confused. What had happened? Oh no, this wasn't the time to ponder, little did I know, I was in with Liberty City's baddest ass driver.  
  
We screeched onto the Main Road in the Cheetah, as we weaved in and out of light traffic, nearly wrecking a Mafia Sentinel. We came onto the South Road, which went straight through the Staunton Park.  
  
The Cheetah pulled over a small ramp, flew through the air, over the brick wall that enclosed Staunton Park. We landed with a loud and shock filled thud onto the park greens, 10 feet to the right of the South Road that led through.  
  
We blazed on, then came back onto the path. Swerving and dodging, he tried his best to not hit pedestrians. Finally, the Sirens came on, now it was on. Yes, 5 chasing Cop Cars warrants the saying, It's on.  
  
We surfed on the asphalt still, our surfboard that speedy Cheetah. IT weaved from one path to another, hitting a puppy dog. I felt sorry for it. 2 seconds later, I was back into reality. The Cheetah found itself 100 feet from an impassable barrier, in the form of a 75 degree incline hill. Hit it, hope we make it over a basketball court, or end up in steel wreckage and flames. Choices, choices, unfortanutely, they were in the hands of mad driver, who took road ragers to be wind up dolls that could eat real food and go to sleep for real.  
  
Ya, I found the guy was legally insane for sure, as we were still speeding to the hill, in a straight path. I closed my eyes, and we hit the would be ramp.  
  
The car soared through the air, time seemed to stand still, it was like it was moving 10 times slower. I felt myself peel back into my seat, unable to move from either gravity or fear. The Cheetah was flying, too bad this wasn't an airliner, I'd definitely be earning miles.  
  
I heard the slow banter of gulls, then we were started on our descent. A creeping sound lurched across the bottom of the car, it was the last fence we had to cross. It tore it up, and we came down hard, pulling a front flip, ending up on the car's top.  
  
The battered Cheetah was now in flames, yet we were back on the streets. Not the best place to be, I thought to myself. I must be the worlds crappiest Poker Player, because I'd somehow drawn a hand of ones again. And no, I couldn't bluff this out to be Aces, I'd just have to work with what I'd been dealt.  
  
The guy pulled me out of the back of the car, I didn't remember what happened next. I sort of black out, my subconscious sang me a lullaby that I couldn't refuse. I drifted into the Sandman's grasps, as I felt me legs being slid across the pavement. 


	5. Conspiracy and the Rabbit Hole

GTA: Innocence Forgotten  
  
Chapter 5  
  
Conspiracy and the Rabbit Hole  
  
Black. I don't know how long I was asleep, but I can't say it was real sleep. It was more of a bad day dream, in which my head hurt, felt throbbish.  
  
Oh shit... A horrendous smell hits my noise, it's worse then sulfur. My eyes pop open, I slowly come to a rise, I find myself in a run down room of sorts. Pizza boxes strewn about, a naked mattress for a bed, and a run down fridge. Certainly not the Ritz Carlton.  
  
Then I see them there, chatting with each other, sitting around a poker table. It's the guy and 8 Ball. They're playing a game of cards, and in the corner of my eye, I catch the Guy is looking at a mirror behind 8 Ball. Tricky.  
  
"Hey..." I mutter out, still wondering if I'm dreaming.  
  
8 Ball turns around sharply.  
  
"He's awake." 8 Ball tells the Guy.  
  
The guy gives a quizzical look, and that's the most I can make out of a blank expression. Looks like he's muttering No Shit in his head.  
  
8 Ball grins, then turns over to me. The guy doesn't bother to look over, he's makes himself busy by palming and replacing 8 Ball's cards. "Uh... You blacked out for a while man- about 4 hours you've been sleeping. A little safety precaution though, we used tranq's to get you into the car, and to make sure you don't know where we took you. Then again, it was a stupid idea. I doubt we'll be able to tranquilize you again for the ride to Mr. X."  
  
I gave a look of questioning.  
  
"Oh, that's right. Don't know about much yet, probably. Well, allow me to brief you on what's going on. The video store knock off- we knew about it, our employer told us all about it. Calls himself Mr. X, don't know him by any other name. He hired us to pull you out, let you stay here tonight, then we drop you off at the meeting point, Love Media Building."  
  
I nodded, trying to hide my confusion. "Uh huh. So, you guys know anything about Famente?"  
  
8 Ball sighed. "Ah- Famente. He also told us about your little situation. As advice from one guy that got in deep shit with a big time gangster to another... It's not worth it. You won't pull it off, and that's all I can say. But if you're bent on taking this sucker out, here's some advice. Lay low for a while, then when he thinks your off the list, strike hard, and don't stop at it. All er nothing man."  
  
- - -  
  
The next morning, I awoke to no sunlight, and 8 Ball was gone. While I slept on the floor, the Guy was already awake, his 'bed' made. He lit up a smoke, and handed the pack out to me.  
  
"No, I quit long ago."  
  
The guy made a face and shrugged his shoulders. He wheezed in one last puff of nicotine, then flicked the cig to the ground, stomping it in.  
  
The guy got his piece from off the poker table, stuffed it into his pocket, then grabbed his jacket. He swung it around his shoulders like a bad ass, then funneled his arms through the sleeves, putting up the collar.  
  
Well, we got into the car, then drove for a while. It wasn't a matter that there was traffic or that the guy drove slowly. It was that he seemed to be hitting checkpoints of sorts. We came onto 12th Avenue, he flicked a pack of cigs out the window, where a man in a black suit, black sunglasses would pick it up. He'd light up a lighter, then we'd drive on.  
  
Did the same thing on 14th Avenue, 13th South, and on and on, 12 times total. Finally, at the last one, the Guy's beeper came on, which he flipped out coolly.  
  
It read, "Meeting is on."  
  
He waved it in front of me, and I nodded. He then threw it into the back seat, and tore ahead, driving like a maniac once again. We spun out, burning rubber past Kenji's Casino.  
  
"What is this, a fucking Indy race?" I yelled as I nearly hit my head into the dash. "Well, I don't think you can go any faster then this!"  
  
I was wrong, once again, and I found out the hard way. The guy peeled in past Love Media, missing the turn on purpose, then pulling an extremely tight 45 degree turn, rubber smoking in the air.  
  
I hopped out, and waited for him to get out too. Nope, just me I thought, as he drove off, giving a quick, disheartened wave behind him.  
  
I felt like Mr. X could offer me a way to Famente, and I was naive enough to believe it. Then it came to me as I walked closer to the building, Love was dead, what would a corpse want with me?  
  
I ignored the thought, and trekked up the stairs, then came to the roof. I peered across the gravel surface, fenced in by glass railings, then moved into the center of the building.  
  
I then felt a cold hand grasp my shoulder, and pat me down. After he was finished, the person spun me around. It was a suit, wearing black sunglasses.  
  
Following him, coming up the stairs I was just on, were two more suits, followed by a man in a trench coat, 2 more suits in tail.  
  
Who was this guy? I'd find out whether I wanted to or not, the Uzi's these guys carried made me feel like I shouldn't complain.  
  
The man in the coat walked up to me, and leisurely took it off, revealing an expensive business suit under it. He handed the coat to one of his thugs, then offered his hand, for shaking. I grasped his hand, covered by leather gloves, and we shook.  
  
"Salutations and greetings, Mr. Dennings. I'd like to ask you first, do you know who I am?"  
  
I shook my head.  
  
"Not a clue. You're not Love are you?"  
  
The man smiled, and shook his head. He started to pace back and forth.  
  
"Do you know how much organized crime plays into Liberty City's economy?"  
  
I shook my head, but answered my best. "Damn well allot."  
  
The man laughed, a good laugh, while his goons laughed in mimicry. "No, but a worthy answer. At today's day and hour-" The man flipped out a small handheld monitor, then  
  
spoke up again, "it would be 37.8 %, thanks to an increase in gang wars."  
  
I listened on in awe. That WAS damn well allot.  
  
"Think how much profit that could pull in. Right now, agriculture is at around 4 %. Automobiles are only 8 %. Electronics even, only 21 %. Now, isn't this an idea, why doesn't somebody just take over the crime business, as unorganized as it is, and reap in the profits?"  
  
I knew where he was headed. But I didn't know where he was at, so I listened on.  
  
"But before I continue, let me introduce myself. Gordon Bradley, my common face lies as an Oil Tycoon. Now, I continue. Tell me what you know about the alliances and enemy-ships of the various crime organizations of Liberty."  
  
I paused. "Mafia, Yakuza, Triads, Yardies, Cartel, various gangs. Mafia are on their own, I doubt they've got anybody on their side. Yakuza against Triads. Yardies playing it safe. Cartel on their haunches, about to get slammed by the Yakuza. The gangs are all against one another. That detailed enough for you?"  
  
He smiled. "You're either an educated or criminally focused man, Robert- If I may call you Robert."  
  
The guy was swimming in swank, and had a silver tongue. The mark of a leader, but also of a liar. I bet this guy could blow 1 million on a bad day, shoot 5 people, insult every racial group in the world, use his resources to pay it all off, and still catch Prime Time television.  
  
"Bottom line, Robert. I'll continue, take you further into the conspiracy, but I need your approval. Will you swear to be under my employment, your task of taking down Famente? Your choice, if you don't oblige, I can get you on a one way to the Keys anyways. So, what'll it be, Dennings?"  
  
I shook my head. I didn't know what was going on, I had a migraine, and to top it off, I was now being dragged into a conspiracy. Just freaking great, if we were to book this as a tv series pilot it'd be accepted for sure. 


End file.
